


Work Of Art

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apadravya Piercing, Body Modification, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry, Confident Harry Potter, First Person Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Gift Exchange, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Nipple Piercings, POV Draco Malfoy, Pierced Harry Potter, Present Tense, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Shy Draco Malfoy, Stigmatophilia, Tattooed Harry Potter, Tattoos, Unusual Christmas Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Quidditch player Harry Potter returns from his tour of America with an extra special Christmas gift for Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 138
Collections: Seven Shades of Drarry | Secret Santa Exchange 2020





	Work Of Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janieohio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/gifts).



> Okay, so this fic is the most out-of-my-comfort zone thing I have ever written in my life _but_ Janieohio asked for piercing and I'm always game for a Christmas challenge. I have certainly learnt a lot doing my research for this fic. 
> 
> Janieohio: thank you for being so kind and welcoming! Your friendship means the world to me. I hope both you and all your loved ones have a very safe and happy 2021.

Harry Potter’s body is a work of art. 

The wizard is blanketed in tattoos. Snitches decorate his arms. There are runes on the back of his hands and lilies that twist up the curve of his calf. Harry’s ears are pierced and there is a stud in his lip. 

Harry is beautiful. To me, Harry is freedom.

Harry is everything that my dreary, pure-blood existence isn’t and I’m fascinated by him. I suppose I always have been. Even when I was a child I couldn’t draw my eyes away. Even when Harry was supposed to be my enemy I think I was half-in love with him. 

Harry is like the Sun – he radiates heat, goodness – radiates excitement. Me though? I’m just a moon, cold and solitary. Dull drab Draco, the Ministry drone. When I’m not in front of his eyes I very much doubt that Harry remembers that I even exist. 

When I see him at his Grimmauld Place Christmas party there’s already a crowd gathered around him. 

I handle my drink nervously. I feel my palms starting to sweat. Wrackspurts dance and fidget in my tummy. Harry is surrounded by good-looking wizards: other Quidditch players, Wizengamot Politicians and the like. I feel my face flush with embarrassment.

How could I have thought that _I_ stood a chance with Harry Potter? I feel a fool for wearing my best fitting robes.

I feel a fool for thinking I stood even the faintest chance. 

I’m about to turn tail when Harry’s eyes lock with mine. 

Suddenly Harry is beside me, every inch of him tall and delectable. His hair is wild – untamed – and his green eyes are full of mischief. Before I know it, the other men have vanished. Harry is leading me by the wrist through the twisting corridors and passages of his home. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I don’t really care. He’s been away on tour in America with the Appleby Arrows for months and I haven’t seen him. I've missed him.

Now Harry is here in the flesh I want to drink in every inch of the man. I want to luxuriate in his presence. 

Eventually Harry pulls me though into an empty Lounge. The portraits on the wall whisper and murmur but I don’t pay any heed to their opinions. 

“You shouldn’t be away from your party,” I say, keeping my words as steady as I can. It wouldn’t do to let him know how quick my pulse is racing. “They’ll be gossip, Harry! Barnabas Cuffe is one of your guests. Head Editor at the _Prophet!_ You don’t want bad press.”

Harry laughs away my worries. It’s a bright, melodic sound. 

“You worry too much, Draco,” Harry answers, leading me to a spot in front of the fire. With a blink of wandless magic it roars into fiery heat. “There’s plenty of Champagne to keep him and all the rest of my guests amused for as long as I’m absent. It was _you_ I’ve wanted to see, Draco. I wanted to show you something new that I’ve had done. Something special.”

I furrow my brow, wondering what exactly my friend is talking about. 

“Me?” I ask, cringing at the confusion in my voice. “What do you want to show me?”

“A new tattoo. You always ask me what I’ve had inked,” Harry answers, his face a broad grin, “and I wanted you to be the first to see my new piece. I had it done in New Orleans, in the Wizarding Quarter. It was painful Draco, but it was worth every Galleon.”

I feel my heart stutter in my chest and feel my cheeks flush. Harry surely can’t know how much I love his body art. He can’t know how I lay in my cold, lonely bed and dream of the ink that swirls over his body. 

Harry surely can’t know how much joy I feel looking at his tattoos, how their beauty and colour are the antithesis of the twisted, burnt scar that marrs my forearm. Harry can’t know about the thoughts that cascade through my brain when I orgasm, about my memories of lilies, runes and snitches moving across Harry’s perfect skin. 

“Why all the secrecy?” I ask, nodding to the door that Harry has magicked shut behind us. I try for levity. “A new Potter tattoo is always headline-worthy. You could have been on the front page of all the newspapers tomorrow. Everybody would be talking about it, trying to guess what it meant.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at me behind those wire frames that he still wears, even after all these years. “If I got _this_ tattoo out in a room full of the great and good of Wizarding England I’d get a little more than a few headlines.” 

Harry smirks and begins to undo the buckle of his trousers. Harry holds eye contact with me while his fingers work at the metal. The buckle unlatches and he leads the belt smoothly around his waist, snaking it free of each loop. The belt falls to the floor with a harsh clatter.

“I’d likely get arrested for indecency,” Harry concludes.

Harry drops his trousers and steps out of them. 

I can’t help but make a small noise of desire at the mere sight of him. Harry’s legs are all potent muscle from riding his broomstick and. as I watch, light and shadow from the fireplace ripple across them. 

Every inch of Harry is tattooed with commemorations and icons that tell me a tale about the life he has lived. I spy stag antlers and swooping owls, tarot cards and fearsome lions. My eyes track up the lithe lines of his legs and I see time-turners, wands and mythical beasts. 

I really try – and I _fail_ – not to notice the sizeable bulge that tents the front of his tight, midnight-blue briefs. I’m terribly grateful when Harry smiles at me before he slowly turns around. 

My relief is short lived, though. 

Harry pulls down the back of his briefs and I’m forced to cope with the sight of his lovely, pert and _very_ shapely bottom. There’s a new tattoo design over one arse cheek and I can’t help but step forward despite my shyness. I’m mesmerised by the sight. 

Harry’s has gotten himself a dragon tattoo in America and it’s _resplendent_. It’s a thing of beauty. The creature’s scales shimmer between silver and gold and his wings are gossamer thin. A great plume of fire surrounds the scaly beast and his eyes are the greenest jade that I’ve ever seen. The dragon’s trail of spikes seem to rise out from Harry’s own skin and I gasp at the intricate artwork. I can scarcely believe my own eyes. 

“A dragon,” I say reverently. I let fingertips trail gently over the design. I know straight away that I’m taking liberties but I can’t seem to stop myself. The beast pulls at my nerves like a charm. “The most mystic of all magical creatures,” I whisper. I pull my hand away quickly when I feel Harry’s skin goose bump under the pads of my fingers. “I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely abashed with myself. 

“Don’t be,” Harry says, pulling his briefs back up. “I know how much you like my tattoos, Draco. That’s why I got this tattoo. He’s my own little Draco, my _aurea draconis_ who’ll bring me a bit of good luck whenever I’m flying. Just like you do, Draco.” 

Harry turns back around and places his hand on the jut of his cock. I feel my heart judder, feel the thrill of attraction course through my veins. Harry is fully erect and so am I. He palms his cock, giving me a devastatingly gorgeous smile as he does so. 

“The dragon tattoo was a present for me,” Harry says, his voice a low, aroused rumble, “but it’s Christmas. I couldn’t bring you here without getting a little gift for you too. Would you like to see what else I had done in New Orleans?”

“A gift for me?” I repeat, not caring that I sound foolish. “You’ve got another tattoo?” I ask trying for nonchalance but not succeeding. “I’d love to see it.”

Harry shakes his head at my question. “No. Not another tattoo. Something I’ve had pierced especially for you.” He hooks his hands into the elastic of his briefs and pushes them to the floor. 

I feel every thought leave my brain. 

I feel like I’d been hit with a _Confundo_. I don’t think that I’ve ever been this aroused in my existence. Harry has a piercing, a barbell that passes straight though the glans of his penis. I’ve never seen anything so erotic and I simply cannot tear my eyes away. Piercings are verboten in pure-blood society. I’ve only ever seen them in Muggle magazines and in blue films. I’ve never seen something so shockingly forbidden in my real life. 

“It’s an _apadravya_ ,” Harry says, looking down at his newest modification, “and I really hope you like it. It’s your Christmas gift.”

“Can I touch it?” I ask, not wanting to hold off for even a second longer. My whole body is thrumming with intense arousal. “I’ll be careful,” I add, not really sure how to proceed. I don’t want to hurt Harry by being too enthusiastic. 

“I’d _love_ for you to touch it,” Harry replies, voice rough with want. “And don’t be too cautious. I’ve not avoided wanking for three long months just so you can treat me like some precious pearl. Touch me, _please_. Every minute I was in America I was fantasising about returning home to you. I couldn’t wait to see your reaction.”

My hand trembles as Harry guides it towards his erection. 

The apadravya is cool against my fingers and the skin of Harry’s hard length is smooth and snug. There’s a droplet of precome at the head of his cock. I spread it across Harry’s shaft. “You really had this piercing done for me?” I ask, enjoying the taboo sensuality of hard metal on hot skin. “I can hardly believe it, Harry. I love it so much.”

“I’m glad,” Harry groans, sweat beading on his forehead as we begin to kiss. “You’re going to love it even more when it’s tickling your prostate,”

Harry’s mouth is warm and inviting. He kisses me slowly but firmly, his mouth exploring my own with a darting tongue. I let my other hand toy with Harry’s nipple ring as I melt into our embrace. I’m undone by Harry. I feel the last of my defences crumble away to dust.

Harry Potter’s body is a work of art and I’m enraptured.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxx


End file.
